Free Yellow Back Radio Broke-Down by Ishmael Reed

gave her the money and took it out in trade. Sorry we stunk up your staircase Drag.
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    Yeah that sounds like her the way you size her up, fellows. How was it? I got her through the papers.
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    Man it was some good yelling, screaming pussy. She rolled her thighs and moaned so good me and Lewis come all over the rug on your stairs Drag. Sorry about that.
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    Well good, fellows, I’m glad she’s warmer than the last one who was a very frigid number. I just married her cause I read in the Psychiatric Journal that evil can be passed on through the chromosomes so I decided to have some kids.
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    Gee Drag you’re reading all the time. Why you read your way right out of Hell.
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    I don’t know. I’m lost if this Loop keeps it up. I got aches all over from last night.
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    Maybe I can recommend something. I am a bit of an occultist pediatrician orthopedist, all that good stuff—maybe I can perk you up there some Drag.
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    Mighty nice of you Clark.
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    The explorer put a poultice and a string of wild onions around Drag’s neck, and wrote down some other ingredients:
    salve of pine resin
    beeswax
    bear’s oil
    and plenty of draughts of strong horse mint tea to drink .
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    Lewis stood in the corner enthralled with a yo-yo.
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    We’d better be pushing back to the East. Deal with some more of the injuns, Clark said. Most of them are cooperative but the Sioux were a little suspicious when we encountered them. Injun killing runs in the family. Why George Washington Rogers Clark cleaned out the Shawnee’s settlements. Killed 10 chiefs, burned 500 Indian cabins and destroyed all the grain. Boy, my pa really loved to cut up. Maybe that Psychiatric Journal you was reading is correct there Drag.
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    Clark and Lewis were walking out of the room when something occurred to Clark.
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    Drag you said all the injuns were wiped out. Then what were them drums we heard? Highly intricate rhythms mixed with what Frenchy Jefferson calls gutbucket.
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    Drag thought for a minute:
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    The idea of another tribe inhabiting these hills has about as much authenticity as a horse’s dream. Wonder what it could be?
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    Confused, the explorers looked at one another.
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    Wiry spaced out sounds moved across the night outside.
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    Royal Flush Gooseman, aging unscrupulous fur trapper, adjusted his coonskin cap. He rode next to Mighty Dike, bulldyker octoroon. Her saran wrap cape stiffened, unyielding even to the wind. She wore goggles, bore a boyish haircut, and a leather mini-skirt with fur around the hem and jackboots. The bridge of her nose rested upon nostrils which seemed two chubby paws ready to spring. Behind was a long line of mules loaded down with calico firearms and very expensive beaver peltries with which Royal Flush expected to corner markets back East, beaver caps being very “in” that year.
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    Well, chocolate mama, we’re in business now. We sold them defected flintlocks to the injuns, allowing the cattlemen to wipe them out. Wasn’t it funny them crawling across the plains like that with their hands clasped to their necks? Glad we took pictures of it, I can sell them to the Smithsonian. Won’t be long, baby, before we’re lying on the beach in Miami and your name up in lights. Aren’t you glad you came away with me from that loser you were with?
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    You were absolutely right in, shall we say, selling the guy down the river, Royal Flush said, leaning over and nudging the woman in a wide belt she wore on her hips from which dangled chalky trophies from former lovers, penises which had been made into plaster of paris casts.
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    Now with the gold Drag gave us for them Coult rifles he used in blasting them kids who didn’t believe in law and order, to use a popular euphemism, I’ll be able to sub-lease Florida.
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    O Royal Flush you thrill me so, she said riding the mule and examining her fingers glittering against the